Something Unsolved
by A Moonlit Resolution
Summary: Follows the first season of Sherlock. Things that could have happened (should have happened) in the first season. Sherlock/John. No smut, lemon, or any of that. Tried to make it funny.


**Heyo! I'm copying my idea from **_**Hey, Easter Kangaroo! **_**I'm following the main storyline of **_**Sherlock **_**but I'm adding things that were obviously not there before. Spoilers! If you haven't watched **_**Sherlock **_**don't read this. **

_**Something Unsolved**_

A Study In Pink: No One's Ever Said That Before

"That's fantastic," John muttered aloud once Sherlock was done telling him and Lestrande why it was so bloody obvious that the woman in the alarming shade of pink (and an awfully quite disgusting color it is) had come from Cardiff. Because, it was _really_ bloody obvious. Well, to Sherlock, at least.

Sherlock glanced at him. "Do you realize you do that aloud?"

John blinked. "Ah, sorry. I'll shut up."

"No, it's… fine." **(Okay, it's way too obvious that Sherlock liked being praised for once. His face had totally said "Just keep doing it" XD) **Sherlock gave him a smug half smile before turning round to talk to Lestrande.

John crinkled his nose as he felt his face flush a little. That was awkward, if not just the slightest bit odd.

XxXxX

Sherlock slowly exhaled. John noticed that he was putting a lot of pressure on his arm.

"Um, are you alright?" he asked uncertainly.

Sherlock lifted his hand, reavealing a nicotine patch. He shoved his sleeve up. "Nicotine patch. Helps me think."

"Yes but… you have three."

"Oh, really? I didn't notice." Sarcasam dripped from his voice.

"But three?"

"It's a three patch problem, John. Anyway, I need your phone."

"My what? My phone? Why can't you just use yours?"

"My number could be recognized. It's on my website."

"… I was the other side of London!" Reluctantly, John pulled out his mobile and handed it to Sherlock. He crept over to the window.

"I need you to send a text," Sherlock said. Then, noticing John's uneasiness, he asked, "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. I just met a friend of yours."

"A friend?" Confused, Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows.

"An enemy."

That made more sense. "Oh. Which one?"

John opened his mouth but no sound came out. Well, how many did he have? "Uh… your arch-enemy. Tell me, do people have arch-enemies?"

"Did he offer you money to spy on me?" Sherlock gave John a side long glance.

"Yes."

"Did you take it?"

"What? Of course not."

"Pity. We could have split the fee. Think it over next time."

John huffed, exasperated. "Who is he?"

"The most dangerous man you will ever meet and not my problem right now. The number! On my desk. I want you to send a text."

John rolled his eyes and took his phone back from Sherlock. Looking on Sherlock's desk, he saw a piece of paper with the name Jennifer Wilson on it. There was a number next to her name. "Hang on," John said. "Wasn't that the dead woman?"

"Yes, that's not important. Just enter the number," Sherlock ordered, eyes shut. He needed another nicotine patch.

John typed down the number.

"Are you doing it?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"Yes."

"Have you done it?"

"Yeah, _hang on!_"

Sherlock waited a moment before saying, "These words exactly. _What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out. 22 Northumberland Street, please come._"

John glanced at him. "You… blacked out?"

"What?" Sherlcok asked. "No… No!" He shot out of his seat. "Type it and send it. Quickly." He walked over to his desk chair and took a pink case off it. "Have you sent it?"

"What's the address?"

"22 Northumberland Street. Hurry up!" Setting down thepink case, he opened it, revealing a women's contents.

John sent the text and saw the pink from the corner of his eyes. "That's…" He backed up slightly. "That's the pink lady's case, that's Jennifer Wilson's case."

"Yes, obviously."

John, suddenly wary, looked Sherlock over.

"Oh, perhaps I should mention—_I _didn't kill her."

"I never said you did."

"Why not? Given the text I just had you send and the fact that I have her case, it's a perfectly logical assumption."

"… Do people usually assume you're the murderer?"

Sherlock grinned evilly. "Now and then, yes."

John nodded. "Well, I hope that you know that I would never think you were the killer."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Don't make promises you can't keep, John."

"Okay…" The case in front of them was alarmingly pink and John's eyes hurt just by looking at it. "So, how did you get this exactly?"

"By looking."

"Where?"

"The killer must have driven her to Lauriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in the car." He paused. "By the way, we should go to Lauriston Gardens sometime."

John frowned. "Why? That's a place where couples go. Are you asking me on a date?" His frown deepened. John barely knew this guy.

"What? No, I'm not asking you out." _That was shot down rather quickly. _Sighing, Sherlock continued. "Nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention to one's self. Particularly, which is statistically more likely. So obviously he'd feel compelled to get rid of it. Wouldn't of taken him more than five minutes for him to realize his mistake."

John blinked. It seemed so obvious now that Sherlock had explained it to him.

"I checked every back street wide enough for a car five minutes from Lauriston Gardens and anyway you could dispose of a bulky object without being observed. Took me less than an hour to find the right skip."

"_Pink. _You get all that because you realized the case would be pink?"

"It had to be pink, obviously."

"Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you're an idiot." Sherlock stopped. That had come out worse than he'd thought it would.

Offened, John stared at Sherlock. John pouted. Sherlock thought it looked kind of cute. It suited the other man. Feeling a warmth in his chest, he coughed. He said, "No, no, don't look like that. Practically everyone is…" He cleared his throat. That was weird. What was wrong with him? "Now, look. Do you see what's missing?"

"From the case?" John asked. "How could I?" He was still annoyed about Sherlock calling him an idiot.

"Her phone," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Where's her mobile phone? There was no phone on the body, there's no phone in the case. We know she had one. You just texted it."

"Maybe she left it at home.'

"She has a string of lovers and she's careful about it. She never leaves her phone at home."

John paled. "Er… why did I just send that text?"

Sherlock nodded. "Well, the real question is: Where is her phone now?"

"She could have lost it."

"Yes, or…?"

"The murderer… You think the murderer has the phone? … Oh, shit. Are you trying to kill me, Sherlock? Did I just text a murderer?!"

Sorry. It doesn't have that many flirty moments, huh? Don't worry, the next one will. One review and I'll continue!


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